


Tessellate

by orphan_account



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi-POV, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events are taking place during the third season.</p><p>Doug, Remy and Seth all find themselves in a position of uncertainty. Each is trying to figure out the path in front of him and the moves required.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SubwayWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/gifts).



The screen of Doug’s laptop has turned to probably the only shade of color blue that could cause a vomiting reaction as a well-measured voice pronounced ‘And now a message from the Vice President of the United States, Donald Blythe’.

Doug has moved the device from his lap to the table beside him and collapsed against the welcoming couch pillows pulling the headphones out.

A man in a formal suit was staring at him with begging eyes.

‘Good evening, America’, he spoke after clearing his throat. ‘I would like to use this opportunity to address some of the questions surrounding the Underwood administration. We are as strong as ever. Critics have turned to the old outrage ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire’, but I can tell you that in this case you would be mistaken. I think it would be wrong to conclude that just because of the whole FEMA nonsense, the hurricane mess, and now the Jordan Valley collapse this administration is in some kind of trouble. Couldn’t be further from the truth’

The camera switched and a jet of white smoke started crawling into the office from underneath the door. Doug leaned closer to the screen covering his mouth as if there’d been anyone around to hide his bitter smile from.

‘Look, I see a little smoke has made its way into the room, but I wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that a fire was somehow connected with it. This administration is in complete control’, the man proceeded high-pitching the last sentence as the fire sirens swallowed the sound of his voice.

Doug reached to shut the laptop down ignoring the electrical pain rushing through his nerves. The Saturday Live Night mockery of the non-stop crisis that escalated in the walls of the White House at the geometrical progression was the least troubling part of the media outburst – if anything it was a display of coming to terms with the existing situation. These jokes, despite being rough, tended to humanize the political process in the eyes of the general public, as Doug had learned over the years – a correlation that he in all honestly found incomprehensible. Maybe this sketch was organized by Seth, who was better at this kind of instinct-based action; it would explain the choice of a character – Donald, despite all his populist leftism, was still not a highly recognized figure, and Hammond played him as a perfectly loveable scapegoat, perhaps exactly what Francis was plotting make of him later.

As a viewer Doug couldn’t help to experience a fleeting compassion; being a briefly discussed on national television scapegoat himself he felt nothing short of a crashing hurricane of disgust and guilt. Donald had a career of methodically and purposefully exploring the depths of people’s contempt, while Doug had been climbing the Everest for over fifteen years only to take one carelessly uncalculated breath of the rarefied air and – fall tumbling down.

At the same time he felt like the means to get back to the desired path were assembling before him, and he only needed to connect the right dots and make the right tools out of them. He laid down on his back, too afraid to spook the yet cloudy thought away by moving to turn off the light which would cause his leg to catch fire again. They’re not putting Donald on the ticket – as that had ever been a mystery before. The obvious choice was probably Cathy, but there’d been no necessary coverage of her in the media – perhaps because of her being part of the low-polling administration. They needed someone in the spotlight, and they needed a woman – to draw the vote from Heather.

Jackie Sharp. Doug had had this thought before, and it felt right, but the fact was there’d been too much bad blood between her and Underwood. Would he trust a woman who backstabbed him on numerous occasions? How bad do his options have to be? They must have been terrible indeed, with the whole ‘redefinition’ set out by the leadership, the disapproval ratings, with Dunbar running a half-negative campaign directed at him. It was hard to be in the dark, and Doug was stumbling across the smokescreen, half-lost. Maybe it was the high time to trust the instincts, especially because there was a personal temptation to believe in Jackie’s candidacy.

If Jackie was in the game, they were sure as hell micromanaging her – there’d be no way in a thousand years that Frank would allow this woman any kind of actual autonomy. They wouldn’t do it directly, but there was a tool they could use to make it less hurtful to her pride: Remy. And if Jackie was to betray them, if she was to go with Dunbar – then, well, Remy would be out of his current post in a heartbeat regardless of the consequences.

In Doug’s skeptical mind it all did look too good to be true, too easy. God, it was hard to choose the course of action while being kept in the shadows, certain of nothing, occasionally having to rely on Wolf Blitzer’s ‘Situation Room’, questionable paragraphs from ‘Telegraph’. He was gazing through the cracks, catching glimpses of the appearances and operating on pure speculation.

He pulled himself up and found the fireworks exploding in his hip sobering. Releasing a sigh he dialed Heather’s number.

***

‘And how exactly do you know this?’ Seth asked after a brief hesitation.

‘I just know. Pass it on to the President. Tell him, it’s coming from me’, Doug answered as cold as he was sure that Seth would not cite the source the information had come to him from. Didn’t really matter – if the plan worked he would have the opportunity to explain things to Frank personally, if not – it was probably better for his participation not to be spotted.

Seth was silent on the other side of the line, but Doug was able to tell that he removed the phone from his face, perhaps in order to take time on nervously weighting the options.

‘You know’, Seth spoke again, his tone – sharper and more confident than before, almost condescending. ‘I do not see the reason you’re still trying to get involved with this. I thought we’ve made ourselves clear: you come back when both you and Frank are ready – if you ever are’

‘I just did Remy’s job’, Doug cut him. ‘Probably even yours – press-secretary’s just a title’

‘You take care of yourself, Stamper. Second-hand worries, like second-hand clothes, come easily off and on’, Seth chuckled sending icy shivers down Doug’s spine.

‘What?’ he refined barely able to keep his voice steady.

‘Charles Dickens, ‘The Tale of Two Cities’. You should read it with all that free time on your hands. Have a good night, I have job to do’, was the answer and the call ended.

Doug felt the urge to throw the phone at the wall and never ever have a single conversation again. But he restrained himself, putting the momentary fire of paranoia and hurt out.

That was what Douglas Stamper did best. At least for the past 15 years.


	2. Undecided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy asks the wrong perosn the right question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewritten it three times at least at different tones, but the final cut was to 'The National - Cherry Tree' and their'Terrible love'.

'Are you still working for this administration?', an enraged voice asked.

'What are you even talking about?', a tired one echoed.

‘I want to know the name of the source so that I’m sure you’re not working for Dunbar’

‘Really?’

‘You went behind my back on this, I’m making sure there won’t be any more surprises’, Remy would’ve wanted to believe he sounded reasonable, but that would’ve been a bigger lie that the one he’d used in Frank’s office two hours before. He wasn’t his soldier, hadn’t been for a while, and Seth Grayson was incompatiable with the concept of loyalty on the cell level. Frank was alone, and there was nothing but compassion in Remy’s decision of not abandoning him that day.

‘You may call it a betrayal, but I choose to see it as sparing you a great deal of moral dilemma. A second time around, by the way’, Seth replied without looking up from his noodles, and Danton felt like smashing the computer screen against the man’s head for a second. The kind of audacity that Grayson possessed was hard to stumble upon, even in Washington, but then again – Jackie wasn’t much better right now. They’ve both had lied, had gone behind him and it had been Remy who got told off in the Oval that day, standing before Frank like a schoolboy caught while picking up the locket’s codes; but worst of all – they both had denied it, both had climbed up the high horses and waved him ‘good luck’ as they’d gone in two opposite directions.

‘You didn’t spare me anything with Tusk, you didn’t spare me anything now’, Remy lowered his head trying to catch Seth’s sight.

‘So, you would’ve gone to the President as soon as you’ve heard about the deal?’ Seth finally lifted his head and looked Remy straight in the eyes with his dead icy stare. An annoyingly smart move, Remy could’ve called it. Of fucking course he wouldn’t have. Jackie was doing the right thing and –

‘Because even without the whole relationship drama, you think that she’s doing the right thing, I know you do. And I can sympathize with that, believe me, I’ve almost shed a tear during Claire’s speech in Russia, but that didn’t stop me from doing damage control, because I save my feelings and opinions for my own time’

Remy couldn’t help but to release a bitter chuckle:

‘You’ve just said ‘I’ three times in one sentence, you know that? And you don’t care about the hurricane or the gay rights or even this administration’

‘I work for this administration and as _you_ might’ve noticed I’m gay as fuck’, Seth switched his glance to somewhere past Remy. ‘Stop trying to paint me as some kind of a sociopath’

‘The only thing you give a fuck about is you being on top, so how about you stop trying to paint yourself as my savior’, Remy turned around and headed towards the door. He heard Seth getting up from his seat, and when he looked back he saw a stooped worn down man with both hands in his pockets unexcitedly examining the floor with his greyish-blue eyes.

‘You know what you’re right’, Seth said after a moment of silence. ‘I do want to be on top and in control, who the hell doesn’t? And I can list a hundred reasons for Frank to make me the chief of staff, especially if Jackie is out’

‘You’re free to do that’

‘I won’t. Because you… we, I mean, us… We matter to me’

‘Go fuck yourself’, Remy said as sharply as he possibly could right now. He had an immediate déjà vu to that evening at Tusk’s apartment when Seth backstabbed him the first time, but he also remembered other, more recent things with a painful vivacity. Seth’s hand making its way down his bared back, the smell of unfresh yet cozy sheets, the reasonably drunken late-nights and childishly-awkward breakfasts, the playful sly winks and not-so-accidental touches of hands during the work hours.  

Remy walked away taking a great effort in measuring his steps. He had very little idea of how he was to proceed now, but at the same time – he didn’t even care anymore.  


	3. Professional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank names Doug his Chief of Staff, and Seth considers his mistakes.

‘I hope the two of you will be just fine’, President Underwood hung up almost defiantly stretching out the vowels in the last two words demonstrating the lack of interest, or maybe it was just Seth’s mind that tended to read too much into things always rushing, always terrified of missing a thing. Because he lacked Remy’s impulsiveness he didn’t even want to throw the phone away, because he lacked Doug’s stiffness he failed to put it down without trembling.

Because he tried his best and still wasn’t the one.

Long days and short, sometimes absent nights had been swiftly passing him by for a while now as he’d been waiting for the Underwoods’ response on his promotion. Had they been anticipating Doug’s return for some time now or had they been truly considering Seth for their right hand? He hadn’t expected trust – not after this little time, but he’d expected at least faith – that he was the one to save the day, the one to sell the messes and the recklessness of the Administration for an organized and artful plan. To keep them the Oval.

He’d believed he could do this, but they obviously hadn’t and at the end of the day it was the only thing that mattered.

***

Seth knocked and stared at the closed door of the Chief of Staff’s office until a secretary opened it and his eyes located Doug at the center of the room. The carefully hidden grin was dancing on Stamper’s face underneath the mask of professionalism. Seth had mastered the art himself a long time ago and still would find it stunning how people pretended to only look and talk ‘just business’ while solely feeding their own egos and pride, being all about themselves. 

With a wave of a hand and a meaningful nod and a soft ‘Amy’ Doug had ordered the woman to step outside of the office and when the door closed it’d been just them. He rose by relying on the table with his right hand radiating the vibes of a man who may have been in a bad shape now but shall Seth make one wrong move, he would devour him piece by piece later.

‘Happy to see you back’ Seth pronounced without being able to hold Stamper’s sharp gaze and lowering his sight to study the floor.

‘I’m sure you are’, Doug echoed with Cheshire cat tone. ‘If you’ve stopped by just to say hi…’

‘I’ve put my name in because I didn’t know you were in the game’, Seth finally got the courage not only to look the older man in the eye. 

‘Neither did I’, Stamper answered, his voice sounded almost playful. ‘But Mr President and the First Lady had made the decision…’

‘It was the journal, wasn’t it?’ Seth cut him off for the second time, not believing himself, but most of all – not wanting to believe his preceding mistake. ‘You’ve kept the journal’

Doug sat down. It wasn’t retreat however, it was Al Pacino in the ‘Godfather’ ending scene kind of move, ‘you came to talk about my business’ thing. An itchy prankish thought of mimicking his posture rushed through Seth’s mind. 

Of course he’d used the journal. He used it to get to Dunbar.

To sabotage Sharp’s participation.

To outmaneuver Remy.

To ruin Seth’s plans.

The journal was Seth’s weapon, the one he’d created from the scratch. 

And it was Doug to master it.

‘Are you here to accuse me of treason?’

‘No. I am a professional’ he didn’t even lie this time, thinking only ‘you lying fuck’. ‘Just stopped by to say ‘hi’

**Author's Note:**

> this work is gifted to SubwayWolf because he is so amazing and inspiring and <3.
> 
> the Blythe sketch is a version of ' Dick Cheney SNL Cold Opening: The Bush Administration is in complete control'


End file.
